


miles away

by chimeramixtapes



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Gen, M/M, jake pines for rich and its all fun and games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimeramixtapes/pseuds/chimeramixtapes
Summary: Jake likes Rich. He's tried looking at other boys in the locker rooms, but nobody is quite as beautiful as him.





	miles away

**Author's Note:**

> find me at jaakedillinger.tumblr.com, and if you like this, throw in a little feedback! i love richjake, and i particularly love jake being the one to pine in richjake.

Jake Dillinger has to wonder just when, exactly, did he begin to look at Rich Goranski the way that he did. He cannot place his finger on a specific date, running over pages of numbers that tangled and blurred together, and suddenly nearly a year felt like much less than that, drowned under hazy, dusky pink that he associated his best friend with. Jake tries to think about it sometimes, often ending up confusing himself. He’s tried, really, looking at the teammates in the locker room, tried seeking it in waves of brown hair and the taste of lipstick, smears of red on his neck that blended into fresh hickeys. Nothing felt quite the same, nothing felt quite as… soft.

Jake couldn’t afford to be soft, and he knew that Rich couldn’t either. The Goranski boy gave off an aura of hard layers, skin of stone, shark fin swims menacingly amongst a sea of students. Despite the brutish image, Jake, when he thinks about Rich, thinks of marshmallows melting by the fire, of kettle steam rising against the black linoleum of his cupboards, he thinks of glitter (silver, sleek compared to gaudy gold.) and for some reason, that feeling of breath on lips before the kiss. Intimate. So close, yet so far.

But, it was gay. Jake Dillinger had checked- tried to check. No other boy was as invigorating, interesting as Rich Goranski. No other boy had that same eyes, that same lazy grin, no other boy stretched the way he did, allowed Jake to admire hard muscle beneath freckled skin. No boy ended up in Jake’s dreams in the way Rich Goranski did.

Jake wonders if there’s a test he can take, wonders if it’s okay to like boys and girls, even if girls just wanted him because he was wonderboy of the football team and looked decent in the face. On the other hand, he only liked one boy, even if that boy liked him as a friend, and would only be into guys in Jake’s wildest dreams, the ones where he can taste salt on his tongue and can hear ringing in his ears when he jerks awake to the relentless buzzing of his phone. Even then, Rich seems miles away, and Jake can’t stand it.

Lucky for him, he’s got a good mask to put on, and admires to his hearts content, observes tiny details that make his heart beat just a little harder against his ribs, freckles that disappear when Rich’s smile stretches wide, constellations of dots that melt together over muscle, the shine in his eyes when he began to talk, and Jake just tuned in, listened to _the Goranski gabble_ at ninety miles an hour. Jake contemplates if it’s really that _bad_ to be gay. Or at least, into guys. _Maybe_.

Even when nobody sees past regal facade of being the best at everything, when he’s in the lead to be voted as ‘the straightest’ in every category possible, straight A’s, straight lines to college in the form of football scholarships to math scholarships, and an _unwavering_ straight orientation.

Absently, he wonders what his parents would say if he were to… y’know, _be gay_.

He tries not to think about it. Don’t miss the bad things in life. He tells Rich that he’s, like, totally over it now, and that’s a lie, and Rich knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t say anything. Unspoken policy between them, Jake guesses. Ask no questions and he’ll tell no lies.

Jake wonders if they would call him a bad kid, and the thought makes his hands shake. Sure, they were bad parents, leaving him at fifteen to fend for himself, putting him under every kind of stress, making Jake hold the weight of the world, putting callouses into hands that had barely tried the teen world for what it was, but.. honestly, anyone being disappointed in him was fear inducing, even if he imagines it.

He thinks about Rich again. His hands shake a little less, like his thoughts manifested into the boy himself, holding his hands in that warm, secure way that Jake dreamed about. He tries to remember how many freckles he counted on Rich’s hand during English today, while he watched his best friend rapidly scrawl an answer that Jake had numbed his own fingertips writing. There were at least ninety, and that was just the back of his hand.

…Yeah, if he’s going to be bad at being a kid, he may as well be a disappointment to his deadbeat parents too. Maybe that’ll take his mind off everything, even after a year. Nearly a year.

Maybe.

 


End file.
